


So in Love with the Wrong World

by E_Salvatore



Series: Eleanor's Advent Calendar Challenge [8]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Kinda dark I guess, bits and pieces borrowed from Alice in Wonderland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: Doctor Strand has two appointments for the rest of the day: one is a patient who suffers from delusions, and the other is a reporter here to talk about his latest book. Which one is Alex Reagan?Title from Florence + The Machine's 'Blinding'.





	So in Love with the Wrong World

**Author's Note:**

> Eleanor's Advent Calendar Challenge: join me as I attempt to carry out My Worst Idea Ever and write something new every single day from now until Christmas. This is Day 8.

_Dear Doctor Strand,_

_When my daughter was nine, she disappeared for a day. She vanished from our backyard without a trace in the morning. My husband and I checked every corner of our home and when we failed to find her, our neighbors joined us in searching the area. Once it started getting dark, I decided to head home and look for her one last time before calling the police._

_And there she was, sleeping under the shade of a tree in our backyard, as if she’d never been gone in the first place. When she woke up, she claimed to have never left the backyard at all. The simplest explanation, my husband said, was that we must have missed her somehow. We were embarrassed for having caused the entire neighborhood such panic, so I agreed with him and apologized for wasting everyone’s time, and that was that._

_Sasha seemed perfectly fine the next day, and we tried to put that episode behind us as soon as possible. But the day after, I found her in the backyard, pulling out chunks of grass and soil as she muttered something about a rabbit hole. She grew distraught after a while, and started screaming about “going back”. Once I’d managed to calm her down, I convinced her to tell me what had happened the day she’d gone missing._

_She told me about falling down a rabbit hole, and ending up in a different world. That was when I grew worried. Sasha was only nine, yes, but she’d never been the kind of child to make up adventures and fantasy worlds. Things grew worse when we started finding her in the backyard (or worse, the woods behind our house) at all hours – day and night – trying to find the rabbit hole, screaming about wanting to go back. After a week, we started taking her to a child psychologist._

_What followed was a pretty standard case of her doctor talking things through with her and convincing her that it was all a dream; I won’t bore you with the details. Things did get worse before they got better but by her fourteenth birthday, Sasha had completely stopped talking about the other world. My husband and I were relieved; we thought this was finally the end of a very weird chapter in our lives._

_When she turned seventeen, she started talking about it again. It was nothing like the last time; Sasha was very calm whenever she spoke of the place, not at all like her screaming, crying younger self who’d been desperate to go back. What was worrying was the matter-of-fact way in which she recounted her adventures in the other world – as if, at age seventeen, she still truly believed that she had once been spirited away to a magical world._

_Her father and I were extremely concerned, but Sasha dismissed our worries. She refused to even entertain the idea of going back to therapy. She’d be off to college soon, she said, and she told us not to worry, that this wouldn’t affect her. Months passed and she proved to us that this new change really didn’t seem to have much of an effect on her life, and so we had no choice but to let her go; we didn’t want this to get in the way of her studies, after all._

_That was ten years ago. In the past decade, she’s settled into a somewhat stable adult life. She has a job she loves and is good at, but her continued delusions about this other world have kept her from forming close friendships. My husband and I had long ago resigned ourselves to accepting this ‘quirk’ of hers so long as it didn't escalate, but something happened recently to make Sasha believe she has found a way back to the other world. She even insists that she has been there several times in the last month._

_It was bad enough when she was a child, Doctor Strand. I don’t want to imagine how her life will fall apart this time, if a fully-grown woman goes around claiming that she regularly travels into a magical world._

_I know you’re a busy man and your usual cases are more “I will bring forth an army of demons” than “the Queen’s guards are all playing cards”, but please, Doctor Strand. Please. My daughter needs your help._

_Best regards,_

_Marceline R._

 

 

“Hey, boss,” He looks up just in time to see Ruby peek her head into the doorway. “I’m gonna head out for lunch now, okay?”

“Is it lunchtime already?” Strand mutters distractedly, his focus already back on the half-written email he’d been working on prior to Ruby’s appearance. A quick glance at the lower-right corner of his screen alerts him to the fact that it is, in fact, well _past_ lunchtime. “Ruby, it’s almost two. Why haven’t you gone for lunch yet?”

Ruby shrugs. “Melissa called and we kinda got carried away trying to figure out your schedule for the next month. And by _we_ , I mean Mel.”

“Of course,” He spares Ruby a quick look and an infinitesimal quirk of his lips. Knowing his assistant, she probably spent the latter half of the call trying to get off the phone. “Go ahead, then. Take your time.”

“Okay, I’m off,” Ruby announces as she disappears from the doorway. “Do you want me to bring anything back?”

“No, thank you.”

Ruby pauses by the door, armed with her coat and bag. “Oh, by the way: don’t forget about Sasha.”

Strand looks up, forehead creased in confusion. “I thought you said I don’t have any appointments scheduled today.”

“Nope,” Ruby frowns. “I specifically said you have _two_ appointments today. Anyway - the girl who went missing for one day nineteen years ago, remember? Her mom wrote to us asking for help?” She adds, hoping to jog Strand’s memory. “Marceline? And her daughter’s name was…”

“Sasha,” He finally recalls. “Yes, I remember now.”

“Okay, good. She’s supposed to show up today. And Jenna’s sending someone to come and talk to you about your next book, I think. Yeah,” Ruby nods to herself, “two appointments, like I said.”

“All right,” Strand sighs, already dreading the meeting his publisher has set up for him. “I’m sure I can handle them on my own, Ruby. Go and enjoy your break.”

“Will do, boss,” Ruby jokingly salutes him. “See you in an hour!” She calls, disappearing around the corner. Shortly after, he hears the faint _ding_ of the elevator signal her departure from the floor.

A few minutes later, the elevator stops at this floor again. It occurs to Strand that he’d forgotten to ask Ruby if he’s scheduled to meet with Sasha or Jenna’s reporter first. Judging by the approaching footfalls, he’ll get his answer soon enough.

The muted _clicks_ – flats, probably – come to an abrupt pause as his guest notes the absence of a receptionist.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice calls out hesitantly.

Strand decides against simply calling the woman in and opts for the more polite alternative of getting up to greet her in person. “Hello,” He says as he reaches the door, spotting a petite brunette standing in front of Ruby’s empty desk. “May I help you?”

“Oh, hi!” The brunette greets him with a bright smile, moving closer to offer him her hand. “I’m Alex Reagan. Are you Doctor Strand?”

The reporter first, then. “Yes, that would be me,” Strand nods, shaking her hand. It’s not this woman’s fault that he’s being subjected to another interview against his wishes; if he’s going to be unpleasant to anyone about this, it will be Jenna and not this clueless stranger. “I assume you’re here for the interview about my book?”

Oddly enough, it takes the woman – Alex – a while to reply, her features scrunching up in thought for a few seconds before she finally speaks. “Yeah, the book. And its enigmatic author, of course.”

“Well then,” He says, motioning for her to head into the office, ready to give her the standard answers and carefully sidestep any personal questions. “Let’s get to it.”

They settle down in silence, Alex taking one of the two chairs on the other end of his table while Strand pushes aside his laptop in order to at least fake concentration on the proceedings. Alex begins with the standard set of questions, establishing his professional history and talking briefly about the three books that had come before this one. For a while, Strand even finds himself thinking that this isn’t too bad.

And then –

“Doctor Strand, your new book explores how seemingly normal people can get sucked into cults and how little time it takes for them to lose all sense of reality. One part of the book in particular focuses on a case study in which a man went from being a moderately successful banker to participating in ritualistic murders within less than a month,” He’s not quite sure where she’s going with this, and her next words leave him winded. “Would you say that your interest in this subject has something to do with the ritualistic murder of your pregnant wife, Coralee Strand?

He’s firing Jenna, effective immediately. All of the questions are vetted by her before her reporters are allowed to speak to him, and she _knows_ that Coralee is off limits. Strand has half a mind to end this interview right now and kick Alex Reagan out of his office – who the hell has the _audacity_ to ask a complete stranger a question like that? – but there’s something in the way she looks at him, wide eyes eagerly awaiting a response as if she has no idea what kind of boundaries she’s just overstepped. It’s… unusual. And he has always been a man drawn to the unusual.

Besides, maybe if he finally answers this question once and for all, he’ll be able to get Jenna off his back and prevent any future interviews from travelling down this line of questioning.

“My goal has always been to understand why people believe in the things that they do, and how they express that belief in their daily life. Some people pray to God before bed every night. Some people kill a pregnant woman because they believe her atheist husband has impregnated her with the antichrist,” Strand shrugs – a move that he hopes will portray composure, a move that he quickly realizes will make him look like a cold-blooded asshole who couldn't care less about his dead wife. “To me, it all falls under the same umbrella. In short, my research for this book has always been firmly within my area of study, and my personal life has no bearing on my professional focus.”

He’s curt, sharp, even _forceful_ in his delivery of that last line, but Alex doesn’t back down.

“Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Your entire career is based on your personal beliefs – or lack thereof, I suppose – as an atheist. Some of your peers have even gone so far as to say that you lack objectivity because of how strong your conviction is. In other circles, you’re known as, and I quote, ‘the man who wouldn’t acknowledge the existence of supernatural creatures even if one straight-up possessed him’,” Alex reads off the screen of a phone she’s seemingly whipped out of thin air, her face a surprisingly blank mask even as she levels insults at him. There’s no self-satisfied twitch of her lips, no challenge in her eyes, nothing at all to suggest that she, like so many reporters before her, is trying to bait him into some kind of argument.

“I believe that I have given my peers, as well as the general public, every opportunity to prove me wrong. I’ve even gone so far as to offer up a one million dollar reward for any solid proof of the paranormal, even though I believe the burden of proof lies solely on my detractors’ shoulders. It’s not my fault that in twenty years, no one has ever come close to winning that reward and proving me wrong,” Strand leans back in his chair, carefully watching Alex’s reaction.

She _smiles_. It’s a small, almost absent-minded thing, and it is entirely unsettling. “Doctor Strand, do you spend much time here in the Pacific Northwest?”

“I split my time between Seattle and Chicago,” He answers evenly, working hard to conceal his unease and confusion. Why would she go so far as to bring up his dead wife and his bad reputation among his peers only to suddenly drop the matter and switch to another line of questioning entirely, right when he’s on the brink of giving her some kind of explosive reaction to gleefully report back to her superiors? Maybe she’s just trying to lull him into a false sense of security before she pounces again. Either way, he makes a mental note to tell Jenna – if he doesn’t end up firing her, that is – to never set up another interview with this Alex Reagan ever again. “Why?”

Alex’s eyes glaze over, taking on a faraway look even as her smile stretches into something both dreamy and deranged. “There’s just something about this place that makes you want to believe – believe that the trees have eyes, that the flowers can talk, that there’s a whole other world just waiting for us,” She sighs before suddenly snapping her attention back to him, clear and lucid hazel eyes watching him almost serenely. “You should try taking a walk in the woods sometime. You might be surprised at what you find.”

And there it is, the challenge he’s been expecting since the moment she walked in. “Are you suggesting that I’ll find proof of the paranormal out in the woods of the Pacific Northwest?”

“I’m merely suggesting that you take a walk,” Alex shrugs as she turns off her recorder and gathers up her notebook and pen. “I can even show you around, if you’d like.”

He’s dealt with enough _believers_ , as Ruby likes to call them, to recognize one when he sees one. But Alex is so… so blasé, as if it doesn’t matter to her, as if she has nothing riding on his decision, as if he’s the one who stands to lose something should he do the smart thing and dismiss her entirely.

Best case scenario: he proves her wrong and hopefully embarrasses her enough to bury this interview, or at least gains some way to discredit her.

Worst case scenario: he wastes a day in the woods.

 

 

 

“Doctor Strand,” Ruby calls as she steps off the elevator. “I brought back takeout and a reporter!”

Beside her, Anne Jones bristles slightly at her unusual manner as a receptionist. Ruby’s used to it, maybe even prides herself on it a little. After all, no _normal_ receptionist has ever been able to handle Strand for more than a month. She’s been here for a year.

“Have a seat, please,” She tells the reporter, bag of takeout still in her hand as she makes her way past Strand’s open door. “So how’d it go with Sa-“

That’s when she realizes that Strand is nowhere to be found.

 

 

 

> **SEARCH CONTINUES FOR FREELANCE JOURNALIST AND FAMED PSYCHOLOGIST SIX DAYS AFTER THEY WERE LAST SEEN ENTERING OLYMPIA NATIONAL PARK**

_oOoOospoopy (OP):_ Here’s the latest article on the Richard Strand disappearance. Seems like they’ve narrowed it to down to Marymere Falls.

_donutsORdoughnuts_ : I just find it funny how the mainstream media insists on calling him a ‘psychologist’. Psychologists don’t follow their crazy patients out into the woods. You know who does? A paranormal skeptic, to prove the patient wrong.

_thetruthis:_ Have you guys read about this Sasha chick though? There’s some pretty crazy shit going on there. Wouldn’t be surprised if she lured him out there somehow and killed him.

_oOoOospoopy (OP):_ You talking about Alexandra Reagan? Yeah, not like it’d be the first time.

_donutsORdoughnuts:_ Wtf

_smoltownboi:_ I grew up on the same street as her and the boy she killed. Nice kid, got picked on a bit for his name but he was still really positive and shit. They’d been friends since they were in diapers or something. It takes a really fucked up person to do that to their best friend.

_oOoOospoopy (OP):_ “got picked on a bit for his name” Poor kid never stood a chance. Who the fuck names their kid Nicodemus.

_donutsORdoughnuts:_ Can someone please explain what the hell is going on

_thetruthis:_ So apparently Alexandra/Sasha went missing one day when she was nine. She came back okay, but she kept talking about this other world or something. And then when she was 10, she convinced that Nicodemus kid that she could bring him to the other world and off they went into the woods. Took their parents and the cops four days to find them. The girl was fine. The boy died of dehydration.

_smoltownboi:_ Man, that’s not even the craziest part. She insisted that the only reason she was fine and he wasn’t was because she went into the other world, but he couldn’t follow her. So this kid was just stuck in some random hole for four days while his best friend was apparently off having tea with rabbits and talking to flowers or some shit in Wonderland. That’s what she called the other world btw. Anyway there was like a trial and everything, but the judge dismissed it. Said the boy decided to go into the woods with her and she was in no way the cause of his death. Her family moved out of town after that.

_donutsORdoughnuts:_ So what you’re saying is Strand’s either dead in a hole somewhere or he’s stuck in some acid trip world with talking rabbits and flowers and shit

_thetruthis:_ I think we all know which one he’d prefer. Stubborn fucker.

_donutsORdoughnuts:_ *shrugs* He’s in Hell either way.

**Author's Note:**

> Ages ago, I spoke about wanting to write some kind of dark, twisted version of Alice in Wonderland for TBTP. I called it 'Alex in Wonderland', back then. I figured this new title, while not as fitting, is less spoilery - not that I tried very hard to go for a twist ending. 
> 
> Did you see it all coming? Were you expecting the Alex/Sasha thing but not the part where she indirectly killed Nic? Are you worried for Doctor Strand? Does it not make sense that he didn't know his patient's last name? Feel free to answer these questions and more in the comments below.
> 
> (Some other questions you can answer: what is the meaning of life? How do you cure a flu? Why are you like this, Eleanor?)


End file.
